


vivat rex

by smolstiel



Series: Boyking!Sam Drabbles [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Gen, POV Meg Masters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolstiel/pseuds/smolstiel
Summary: His eyes were yellow. That was the only thing she could see that was different about him. Except, she realized quickly, there was something rock-hard inside, something that had been only developing when she had met him, something iron-clad and twisting like golden smoke. Something like power.Sam proves his place as the new king. Written for the Boyking!Sam Discord server.





	vivat rex

I’m Sam.” His shoulders were slumped and his hands jammed into his pockets.

The demon inside Meg Masters looked him over. He didn’t seem much like hellking material. More like a boy-king. A marionette, not a puppeteer. But she did what she had been asked to do — poke and prod, push his limits, discover his strengths and weaknesses. A job interview, as it were. He answered even her more prying questions with the same ducked-head, hiding-behind-the-bangs routine he used when deflecting compliments or subtly redirecting the conversation away from himself. She was amused, but she wasn’t impressed.

It wasn’t until the next time she met him, when she was falling through a six-story window, ripped apart by shadows, that she realized it wasn’t himself he fought for.

Hell changed the day he took his throne. The screams stopped abruptly, cut off with a snap of his callused fingers as every knife clattered to the ground. The quiet hung thick with blood and the rattling of chains. Then he commanded every demon to the foot of the throne, his voice carefully controlled. Some cowered. Meg stood.

His eyes were yellow. That was the only thing she could see that was different about him than the day she had first met the future king of hell. He was still curled in on himself like a shy teenager, wide-eyed with youthful idealism, and trailing his brother like a lost puppy. Except, she realized quickly, there was something rock-hard inside, something that had been only developing when she had met him, something iron-clad and twisting like golden smoke. Something like power.

His brother saw it too.

Dean stood on Sam’s right, shifting uncomfortably. His gaze darted between the figure beside him and the groveling subjects and the jagged mountains of drying ash in the distance. Sam looked at him for a moment, his expression emotionless, but somehow it reassured him. 

“You know who I am,” Sam said, his voice carrying much farther than it should, given the little wobble of uncertainty that cut through it. “And you know why I’m here. And if anyone has a problem with that,” he looked around, and his confidence seemed to increase, along with the concentration of the yellow in his eyes. “Then you better say something now. Because now will be a hell of a lot more merciful than later.” 

There was a beat of silence, and then a hiss of, “I speak, Winchester.” 

Meg glanced over to see a demon raise himself half out of his meatsuit in an inky black cloud of power and darkness. The body moved jerkily, formed the words, “I challenge your command. You are human and you can never rule hell.” There were whispers of agreement, hesitant, and then growing. 

Sam stared at him. Tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowed as if in concentration. Like he was reading fine print on the glow of his laptop. He pinched his forefinger and middle finger together, as though clutching a cigarette, and the half-possessed body choked, and then spat the rest of him up in one long heave. The smoke writhed where it was, held fast. Then with a flick of his fingers, it was gone. Ash fluttered in its place, dusting like snow over the gathered, bloody vessels, the occasional unbodied demon, the dark, cracked-stone floor, and the pale boy that used to hold something powerful. 

It was completely silent. 

Then Sam beamed like it was Christmas morning, and he’d just gotten a brand new toy. He shared his grin with Dean, who returned it hesitantly. 

“So,” the King of Hell said. “Who wants to get on my good side?” 

Meg smiled.


End file.
